


Sparrowhawks

by Tridraconeus



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Periods, Professionalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22165966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tridraconeus/pseuds/Tridraconeus
Summary: They really did hate each other. But they were comrades, for as long as it lasted.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	Sparrowhawks

**Author's Note:**

> cleared out the notes on my phone and this fic was started and finished in 2017

Galia held the vial of elixir up and examined it against the weak, watery light. Enough for one person to quell the pain entirely. Enough for two people to make it manageable. She knew Billie was bleeding, too, they started within days of each other like the Void's own baleful clockwork and that morning Daud's favorite lieutenant had begged off from patrols to wrangle numbers instead.

If Galia were feeling petty she'd make a comment to herself about how she didn't know Billie could read. This was something she wouldn't attack her on. Galia wished she could find a bone charm to stopper her up inside and so she wouldn't have to deal with the pain and the knowledge that, for however long her body betrayed her in agonizing spasms and cramps, she was a liability-- she knew Billie wished the same. Galia huffed to herself again and downed half the elixir.

She crossed the threshold to the record room.

“Lurk,” she called out, pleased with herself at how her voice was cold.

“Fleet,” Billie said archly back. 

“Elixir.” She put the vial down. Billie took it, careful that their gloved fingers didn't touch. She didn't thank Galia and Galia didn't expect thanks. She didn't want thanks, not for this. _Thanks_ was for when she snatched a life from death, or sewed someone up when Julian was busy, or got a bottle of whiskey to share. This was less than that, and somehow more, not requiring thanks. 

“Pavel will need some too,” Billie mused, but she drank the rest of the vial down. Galia shrugged even though Billie couldn't see. “And Pickford.”

“Pavel can find his own. Pickford's got a brother, hasn't she?” The urge to shoot the shit drowned out the urge to leave Lurk's presence as soon as possible. The elixir settled mineral-thick in the back of her throat and warmly in her belly and spread down from there until the piercing convulsions quieted and her back relaxed. Billie must be feeling much of the same if she's allowing idle chatter. 

“I've changed our assignments,” Billie finally said, after a full minute of silence. “You're on Krust duty.” 

A punishment for unruly Novices. Galia wished to hiss. But it was, truly, better than being sent on reconnaissance or to stake out a place where she would have to sit still for hours on end. The Krusts died when you shot them and then she could be done and curl up in her cot for the rest of the day. This, too, did not require thanks. 

“Understood.” Galia waited for Billie to say more, but she was reticent and quiet again, focused on the numbers, so she left.


End file.
